


Data's Daydreams

by RowenaZahnrei



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Imagination, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 01:31:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4768481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowenaZahnrei/pseuds/RowenaZahnrei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this collection of five short stories, Data discovers dreams don't always confine themselves to sleep.  The stories are:<br/>1. Night Watch Daydreams<br/>          Can one daydream at night?<br/>2. What If?<br/>          In the aftermath of 'Descent,' Data ponders 'What if?' <br/>3. The Spirit of Friendship<br/>          Data reflects on how having friends has altered his perceptions, expectations, and experiences.<br/>4. The Starman<br/>          La la lala   La la lala...<br/>5.  Imagined Ambitions<br/>          Data and Geordi discuss their dreams for their future careers, and how those dreams have evolved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Night Watch Daydreams

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: The Next Generation or any of the characters therein. Please don't sue me or steal my story. Thanks! :)

Data's Daydreams

By Rowena Zahnrei

 

1\. Night Watch Daydreams

Second Officer's Personal Log: Since discovering my dream program six weeks ago, I have begun to realize the benefits, and drawbacks, of possessing an active, unconscious mind. While I retain full awareness of my conscious thought processes, I have noted that when I am engaged in a highly routine task for an extended period, my focus divides and my attention sometimes begins to wander. The tedious scan or analysis is pushed to the edge of my conscious awareness and what I can only describe as my imagination takes hold, creating vision-like scenarios I have tentatively termed 'daydreams'…

"Commander Data, you have the bridge," Captain Picard said, breaking into the android's thoughts. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Aye, Captain," Data said, rising from his ops station. "Pleasant dreams, sir."

The captain nodded with a smile and headed for the turbolift. A few of the bridge crew joined him, stifling yawns, even as more rested officers arrived to begin the new shift.

Data waited until his internal chronometer read all zeros to announce, "Begin night watch," then settled into the central command chair, which he never failed to notice was more agreeably padded and ergonomically designed than his own…not that androids gave a thought to comfort.

The bridge lights dimmed by twenty percent, highlighting the cheerful, electronic glow of the bridge consoles. The hums and chirps of the ship's systems blended with the sounds of soft voices as the officers around him saw to their duties; an efficient and harmonious symbiosis of organic and artificial intelligences that touched something poetic in the android. As he used the chair's arm console to log the shift change, in the back of his mind, he began composing a trio of new sonnets to express those thoughts, while absently speculating if it was possible to effectively capture the playful dynamic of the ops console's blinking lights on a static canvas.

Data finished the log and sat back, his golden eyes drawn to the vast, sweeping starscape displayed on the main viewscreen.

Normally, when there was a lull in his duties, he would occupy himself by accessing the names, positions, planetary systems, and known histories of the stars he saw. He did that tonight, but as the familiar information scrolled through his brain, it somehow failed to captivate. Instead of focusing on the data, his mind became absorbed in the stark contrasts of space and the pleasing effects of the light distortions caused by the ship's warp field, which made the stars appear to stretch. As he stared, he could almost feel the smooth wooden brush between his fingers, see the stars as graceful streaks of white-gold paint across a black gesso canvas…

Data blinked.

Had the sensory stimuli of the night bridge always affected him this way? Would he have had such oddly sensual thoughts before the dream program activated?

Am I daydreaming now? he wondered. Can one 'daydream' at 'night'?

It would be inappropriate to pose such introspective questions to the crew around him, but any answer would require a wider experiential sampling than just himself. Data decided to add those questions to several others he'd been storing to ask his friend Geordi when they met for coffee in the morning.


	2. What If?

2\. What if…?

Data drew his lips tight and stared down at the tiny chip gleaming in its box. Pandora's Box. Within that tiny flake of metal and plastic was programmed the entire host of human horrors and miseries. Cruelty, malice, envy, sadistic pleasure… All the lusts and perversions that had plagued human history, turning brother against brother. Cain and Abel. Esau and Jacob.

Data and Lore.

It was his fault. Lore had manipulated him, lied to him, but Data's negligence had allowed Lore the opportunity he needed to steal Data's emotion chip. Everything that had happened to himself, to the Borg, to his friends… To Geordi. It could all be traced back to that one mistake, that one momentary lapse on his part…

Data had never understood why so many organic humanoid species expended so much time and energy pondering what might have been. The decisions had been made, the actions carried out. The consequences could not be changed. What was the point in repeatedly going back over previous choices, previous errors, and wondering what if?

He knew now. He still found the concept illogical, irrational, yet he understood. The quandary overwhelmed him, preoccupying his mind with endless questions. Questions that had no satisfactory answers.

What if he could have that moment back? Undo his mistake? How might events have turned out differently?

Without his willing it, Data's eyes lost focus, his mind taking him back to that day on Terlina III. The day he had met his father, Dr. Soong…

Dr. Soong had summoned Data to his isolated lab by activating a homing device he'd built into the android's positronic brain. The homing program had triggered an autopilot effect; an abrupt, even brutal, suppression of Data's conscious awareness. Data had awoken in the scientist's eclectically cluttered home completely disoriented with no memory of how he'd arrived and no means of contacting his ship. The situation had closely paralleled his previous abduction by the Zibalian trader Kivas Fajo, and Data had, at first, been very hesitant to accept the old man's claim that he was, in fact, the cyberneticist Noonien Soong – a man who had been presumed dead ever since the science colony, Omicron Theta, had been destroyed by the Crystalline Entity nearly thirty years before.

Still, there had been something about the old man, something convincing, more than just his appearance and the books and artifacts that littered his lab. It was his way of speaking, of posing questions, of knowing just the right thing to say to prompt Data to work out answers for himself.

Data had felt it then. A connection. It was similar to what he'd felt for his daughter, Lal, but more tentative. The man had abandoned him, after all, left Data alone on a dying planet with no memory of Soong – no memories at all, in fact, aside from the selected impressions and journals the doomed colonists had programmed into his brain before their deaths. After his rescue by Starfleet officers, Data had named himself, chosen his own profession, worked his way through Starfleet Academy and up the ranks, all without any clue as to his creator's identity.

And yet, despite the abandonment, even despite the abduction, Data quickly found himself trusting Soong. He discovered he wanted to impress the old man, to learn from him, to make him proud. As they talked, Data's cautions fell away and his curiosity grew until, finally, he decided to introduce the difficult topic of Lal.

There had been so much Data had wanted to tell Soong, so much he had needed to ask. Had Lal's death been his fault? Had his design for her positronic brain been flawed in some way? Could his child ever be restored?

Data had opened his mouth, ready to tell his father everything –

—When the lab doors had slid open and in walked Lore, lost in the same homing program-induced autopilot that had overtaken Data.

Data had tried to warn Soong. He had urged him not to reactivate Lore. Lore had been responsible for luring the Crystalline Entity to Omicron Theta, after all: his way of exacting revenge on the organic humanoids who had refused to accept him as a feeling, sentient being. He had tried the same thing on the Enterprise - promising to feed the carbon-based crew to the silicon-based Entity. Lore had disabled Data and attempted to impersonate him in an effort to convince the captain to lower the Enterprise shields. When he was found out, Lore had snatched a phaser and attacked several people, including Data, before he was finally transported into deep space.

Soong had ignored Data and his warnings, brushing the android aside like a pesky mosquito. Data had realized then: now that Lore was there, Data was no longer Soong's primary concern. Lore and Soong had a long history together, a complicated relationship Data could not understand or share. So, Data had stepped aside. He had swallowed his questions and observed the anguished dynamic between the two men from the sidelines: Lore's bitter anger, Soong's resigned guilt. It was clear something had happened, some terrible betrayal, but they did not offer details and Data had sensed it would be inappropriate...perhaps even dangerous...to ask outright, given his father's fragile health.

So, he had fallen back on what little Lore had told him of the conflict. About the colonists' envy of Lore's advanced abilities, their demand that Lore be replaced with a more comfortable, less convincingly human android. He had hoped such an indirect approach would encourage his father to reveal his side of the story. Instead, Data had received a shock. Not only had Lore lied about the colonists' motives for disassembling him, he had lied about Soong's motives for constructing Data. Data had not been designed as a more user-friendly replacement for Lore. His social awkwardness and emotional shortcomings were not proof that he was 'less perfect' than his highly mercurial brother. If anything, judging from Soong's reaction and his reluctance to meet Lore's eyes, Data was the more sophisticated model.

But, Soong was not interested in Data's revelation. Soong had told him to sit down, then turned his focus back to Lore. It was just when Data was sure he had become the proverbial 'third wheel' in their conversation that Soong had revealed his reason for activating the homing beacon.

"This..." he'd said, taking a pair of tweezers in his gnarled hands and lifting a small, gleaming data chip from his desk. "This... This is why I've brought you here, Data. Basic emotions. Simple feelings, Data. Your feelings."

Data had stood, his lips parting as he moved toward the chip.

"I've imagined how hard it's been for you," Soong had said. "Living amongst beings so moved by emotion."

"I don't have to imagine," Lore had said, wearing an expression Data couldn't quite read. "I know how hard it's been. You'd be surprised, Data. Feelings do funny things. You might even learn to understand your 'evil' brother. To forgive him. We will be more alike, Data, you and I. You'll see. I...I'm happy for you!"

Data had fixed his brother with a frank stare. "I question your sincerity, Lore."

Soong had smiled and replaced the chip in its container. "Perhaps with this you'll learn to be more trusting, Data. Your brother has had good reason to be bitter."

"But, sir," Data had tried again. "Lore was responsible for-"

"He wasn't given the chance that you and I were given," Soong had interrupted firmly. "To live."

That had given Data pause. Just how long had Lore lived on Omicron Theta before his forced deactivation? Data did not know. All he did know was that Lore was a complicated and confusing individual...not unlike their father...and that both men were startlingly skilled at using words to their advantage. Soong had used words to manipulate Data, albeit in a benign, even professorial manner. Lore used words as weapons, probing his victims for weaknesses. Everything he'd said to Data had had a double meaning, or been an outright lie, and every lie had been designed to exacerbate Data's own uncertainties and doubts about his nature and his purpose.

And yet... Could Dr. Soong have been right? Did Lore have good reason to lash out at humanity as he did? Had Data misjudged his brother, and his motives? What insights might the emotion chip bring?

"So, here we are," Lore had said, once Dr. Soong had left for a brief nap. The emotional confrontation with his elder son had exhausted the old man.

"Here we are," Data had agreed, and walked over to Soong's desk, his eyes drawn to the silvery chip. "Can I ask you a question, Lore?"

"I don't know. Can you?" Lore had shot back in that befuddling way of his, coming up beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Just look at it, Data. There, locked in that miniscule sequin, resides the program designed to finally unleash everything you ever wished for. That, dear brother...that shiny bit of circuitry, is your sense of humor, your empathy, your anger - the missing piece of what you so ignorantly call your humanity. No more mild intellectual curiosity for you, Data. Oh no. This will be passionate, visceral, physical experience. True emotions...they're not just 'simple feelings.' They're a battle, a war, and they don't fight fair. Are you sure you're ready to take them on?"

It was while Data was struggling to sort out his disconcertingly conflicting reaction to Lore's words, that his brother had used his android speed to press Data's off switch. Data had learned later that Lore had then swapped clothes with Data and tricked Soong into installing Data's emotion chip in his own brain. Lore had then hurled the old man across the room and transported back to his vessel, leaving Soong to die.

Those were the events as recorded in Data's memory engrams. But in his mind...

In his mind, Data could see another scenario play out. A scenario where he caught Lore's hand just before it reached his off switch. They struggled for a few moments, neither able to overpower the other, until Lore turned to grab the bust of Charles Darwin - presumably to use as a weapon - and Data took the opportunity to turn him off. Lore slumped against the shelves, and Data carried him to their father's couch. He then closed the chip safely in its box and held it until Dr. Soong woke from his nap.

"What's happened here?" Soong asked as he shuffled into the room. "Where's Lore?"

"Lore is no longer conscious, sir," Data told him. "He tried to deactivate me shortly after you left, presumably with the intention of stealing the emotional program you designed for me. We struggled, and I deactivated him. He is there, on the couch. I assure you, he is unharmed."

Soong shot him a horrified look and headed toward his unconscious son, but Data rose and touched the old man's shoulder, gently stopping his progress.

"Sir," he said, "I strongly recommend you do not reactivate him just yet. If you recall, Lore asked why you did not fix him when it was within your power to do so. I sincerely doubt he would give you the opportunity to actually attempt the repair if he were conscious."

Soong seemed to consider that. He peered deeply into Data's eyes, then slowly began to smile.

"It really is you, Data, isn't it," he said. "For a moment, I thought..."

"As I tried to tell you before, sir, Lore already tried to impersonate me once, aboard the Enterprise. I was not about to allow him to take advantage of me again."

Soong squeezed Data's arm and nodded. "Lore deserved better. He deserves better. I can't promise I'll be able to untangle all the twists and knots in his programming in the time I have left, but I'll give it a try. I owe him at least that much."

"If I could be of any assistance, sir-"

Soong shook his head. "Lore is my responsibility, Data. You have your own responsibilities, back on your ship. Responsibilities I know I've kept you from. But I had to test you, to find out if your cognitive abilities had progressed to the point where you could handle emotional stimuli without falling victim to cascade failure."

"And, if that were to happen," Data said, his mind full of Lal, "would there be any way to reverse such a failure?"

"None that I know of," Soong admitted. Data frowned. "But, you have nothing to worry about, Data," the scientist said. "You are more than ready for this chip. But, installing it...that's not up to me. This is your decision to make, my boy, and it's a big one. These emotions will change your life, son, in ways you cannot yet imagine. But, the chip is yours, whether you decide to install it now, or later, or never. So, tell me: what do you want, Data?"

"I want to understand," Data said. "I want to share life's experiences with my friends, be they good or bad. I want to join in with their laughter, their frustrations, their fears. I...I wish to feel...complete."

"Well," Soong said, "I can't promise you that, son. I've had emotions my whole life and I've never felt all that complete. Then again, I've never been much of a people person. I... I have the unfortunate habit of driving folks away. You, on the other hand... You seem to have found yourself a real niche on that starship of yours. Who knows. Maybe you'll be the lucky one, Data..."

The chirp of the door signal pulled Data from his daydream with a lurch of disorientation. He realized he'd been staring at the damaged emotion chip and lowered it to the console.

"Enter," he called out.

Geordi stepped into Data's quarters. "Hi, Data," he said. "I wanted to let you know Dr. Crusher says I'll be able to return to duty soon."

Data seemed to shrink in his chair.

"I am...relieved...that the injuries I inflicted on you are not permanent."

Geordi nodded and indicated the chip. "What's that?"

"This is the chip my father created for me so that I could experience emotion," Data told him, carefully replacing it in its box. "I had it removed from Lore's body before he was dismantled."

"Does it work?" Geordi asked, reaching over the computer console to pet Data's striped cat, Spot, who was busily cleaning his fur.

"No," Data said. "I am pleased to say it was damaged when I was forced to fire on Lore."

"Pleased?" Geordi frowned. "Data, you've wanted emotions your whole life."

"Yes," Data acknowledged. "But emotions are responsible for what I did to you." He fixed Geordi with his most sincere gaze. "I would never risk letting that happen again. My friendship with you is too important to me."

Data grabbed his phaser and adjusted the setting to a very precise, limited range. The tightly controlled beam would disintegrate the box and the chip it contained, but leave the console - and his cat - undamaged.

"Data," Geordi said, placing his hand over the chip's box before Data could fire. "I wouldn't be very much of a friend if I let you give up on a lifelong dream now would I. Maybe someday...when you're ready..."

Data looked up at him, and tilted his head. "You would be willing to take such a risk?"

"I don't see it as a risk," Geordi said. "Lore's gone, Data. He can't mess with you anymore."

"You cannot simply dismiss what happened by blaming it all on Lore," Data said. "I do bear responsibility for my own actions. My own choices."

"Did you choose to let Lore manipulate you?" Geordi retorted. "You saw it yourself, Data, the guy was a master at twisting people to make them think his commands were their wishes, and he'd been twisting you around and feeding you lies since he first opened his eyes on this ship. He preyed on you, Data. He was like one of those ancient cult leaders - all charismatic and sympathetic on the outside, but inside he just got off on the control. Lore was a classic sociopath. A petty narcissist who tried and failed to recreate the Borg in his own warped image of perfection. You're not like him and you'll never be like him, whether you install that chip or not."

"But, Geordi, I-"

"You said no," Geordi said. "You defied him. You beat him. You stood up for yourself, for us, and now we're here and Lore's down in the cybernetics lab, where he can't hurt anyone ever again."

Data lowered his gaze.

"Do you think it might be possible to fix him, Geordi? To repair whatever went wrong with all of his...complexities?"

Geordi made a face. "I don't know, Data. Maybe someday. But if even Dr. Soong wasn't sure how to fix him, I don't really see it happening."

Data nodded slowly.

"Geordi?"

"Yeah, Data?"

"What do you imagine I would be like if I really could feel emotions for myself? Do you think I would become...a different person?"

"Honestly, Data?" Geordi said with a smile. "I think you'd be just like you are now. An overanxious worrywart."

Data shot him his version of 'a look.' Geordi's smile broadened to a grin. Then, he sighed and shook his head.

"Look, Data... Are you going to be OK?"

"Yes. Are we going to be…OK?"

"Always," Geordi said, his expression warm. "Hey, I'm off duty and you're off duty. What do you say we put that thing away for now and head down to Ten Forward? I don't know about you, but I could really use a few drinks. It's no good for either of us just sitting around in our quarters."

Data nodded, slipped the damaged chip and its box onto a shelf, and followed his friend out the door. But his thoughts stayed with that little box. Pandora's Box. Perhaps, despite the potential horrors it could unleash, it was not hatred that lived at its heart, but hope. Hope that those dark impulses could - would - be overcome. That, someday, Data would be able to smile and laugh with his friend over drinks and really, honestly feel the affection; the brotherly connection he knew, intellectually, that they shared.

But that was an entirely different kind of 'what if' scenario; not one of what might have been, but one of what might be. And, unlike his imagined re-visionings of the past, this daydream stood a chance of coming true.

What if…?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This episode references and, in part, quotes/paraphrases TNG "Datalore," "The Offspring," "Brothers," and "Descent I/II."


	3. The Spirit of Friendship

3\. The Spirit of Friendship

Data's seven years of service aboard the Enterprise-D had taught him a great deal. He had learned how to function as part of a close social and professional team, how to act as a leader, to inspire the confidence and nurture the abilities of his subordinates, and he had learned how to recognize, respect, and share in the varied interests of his friends while simultaneously developing and expressing his own preferences.

Yet, for all the benefits his active participation in the Enterprise social scene had brought him, Data knew he had also incurred several drawbacks. Case in point: he now understood – honestly understood – what it was to be lonely. Where once he would only have mused absently on the etymological origins of axioms like "absence makes the heart grow fonder," now, when his friends were unavailable for social interaction, Data missed their input. 

He missed it a great deal.

Geordi was busy. Geordi was overseeing the installation of the Enterprise's new warp core while the ship was in spacedock. Data had pointed out that, technically, the Chief Engineer's presence was not required until the unit was ready for its initial tests, but Geordi's responsibilities made him behave with somewhat irrational protectiveness whenever "strange hands" touched "his" beloved engines. So, as he had done in many similar situations, Data had left his friend in Engineering and gone off to pursue his own interests.

Unfortunately, most of the interests he did not share with Geordi – such as his artistic, musical, and literary endeavors – were sedentary, and Data had wanted very much to leave the ship and explore the starbase. It was only after he had crossed the docking ramp to the base's observation deck that he'd realized he did not want to explore the starbase alone.

Data stared out the gently curving viewport window at the sleek, elegant lines of his starship. His home. The harsh interior lighting did no justice to her hull's bright finish. He preferred the way she looked in her natural habitat – the deep, star-speckled blackness of space.

When was the last time he had looked – really looked – at his ship from the protected interior of a starbase?

The memory appeared before he'd finished forming the question. It had been six years, eight months, and twenty-four days ago, on Stardate 41365 – the day four Bynars had hijacked the Enterprise and kidnapped the Captain and Commander Riker in hopes that the two officers could restore the master computer that sustained their world.

Data slid his eyes to the side, allowing the recorded events of that day to play across his conscious thoughts. He had been new to his position then, new to command, and still unsure how the very human concepts of 'recreation' and 'personal time' might apply to an android who never tired and had no emotional need for diversion. After all, on his previous assignment aboard the Trieste, his organic crewmates had behaved toward him as if he were no more than a mobile computer interface, never questioning why the android officer never left his post unless ordered to take on some other duty.

He had not anticipated how different his situation would be aboard the Enterprise where, from the very outset, he had been treated, not as 'that creepy robot,' but as a man.

Geordi had been the one who suggested they step off the bridge, away from the busy Bynars, and use their free time to pursue outside interests. When Data claimed he had none, Geordi had suggested he try his hand at something creative, like painting. He had even suggested a subject: the Xylo Eggs.

The corners of Data's lips quirked slightly at the memory of his first artistic endeavor. The brushwork had been thick and heavy, a result of holding the brush too tightly, and the colors, instead of forming complimentary layers, had blended to create a rather muddied effect. He liked to think he had improved since then.

That day, Data had been thoroughly absorbed in the creative process in a way he'd never been absorbed by anything but his work when the Bynars made their move, simulating an impending warp core breach to force the crew to evacuate the ship and remove it to a safe distance from the starbase. Jarred back to reality, Data had performed his duty with alacrity, but had been unable to shake the disconcerting notion that he had done something terribly wrong. He had left his post, abandoned his duties, just to indulge a personal whim. Because he had not been there, on watch, on the bridge, the Bynars had overtaken the computer and commandeered the vessel – along with the Captain and First Officer. Upon arriving on the starbase, he had expected immediate reprimand—

But, none had been forthcoming. Then, when he had admitted his perceived negligence to Geordi, their friend Tasha had scolded him for even harboring such an attitude, saying, "That's a pointless discussion, Data. You could have been on the bridge and it still might have happened."

Fallibility. It was such a…human…flaw, hardly to be expected of the tireless, mechanical data collector that had headed the Trieste's life sciences department.

But to Tasha, like Geordi and the rest of the Enterprise senior staff, Data had always been a person. A living being, fully capable of making mistakes, forming close social connections…and missing the people who were no longer with him. People like his father, his daughter…

…and Tasha herself.

Data's perfect posture seemed to wilt, just slightly, and he turned his gaze back to the ship, experiencing the loss of their valued input as a strange, undefined weight deep in his chest cavity. It had been a long time since he had felt so…isolated.

Before the Enterprise, a moment like this would have had little effect on him. With company, without company, in a group, isolated from a group, it had made no difference. His thoughts were his own, solo or shared, so what did it matter if he was socially isolated as long as he maintained a perfect record of his experiences?

But somehow, somewhere, something had changed. He had changed. Having friends – real friends – had augmented his outlook, imbued his life experiences with unanticipated nuances that added shade and flavor to every moment he shared. Because of his friends, because of the acceptance and encouragement of people like Geordi and Tasha, Commander Riker and Captain Picard, Dr. Crusher and Counselor Troi, the android who now stood gazing out at the Enterprise was no longer the android who had signed aboard.

The thought made him reflective and he tilted his head to consider the implications. Gradually, his sharp eyes lost their focus, his processing speed seemed to slow…

And then, in his mind, he heard a voice.

"Hello, Data."

It took a moment for him to register the warm presence by his side; the small, callused hand slipping into his own and giving his fingers a familiar, friendly squeeze.

"Tasha," he said. "I wished to share my time off with a friend. I am pleased that you are here."

The young woman smiled a smile drawn from his memory banks, but Data didn't dwell on that. Even if she was just an extrapolated amalgam of memories and dreams, it was enough to make for a pleasant daydream.

"You know I'm only a figment of your imagination," she said, echoing his thoughts.

"Of course," he assured her. "I am pleased that I now have an imagination capable of providing me with such engaging and pleasant scenarios. I have greatly missed your company over the years."

"Oh, Data," she said, and shook her head. "Look, if you're lonely, why don't you go find Riker or Troi or someone? I'm sure they'd welcome your company."

"Commander Riker exhibited great reluctance this morning when I voiced my interest in exploring the station's zoological garden, leading me to infer that viewing captive, endangered animals makes him feel guilty. And Counselor Troi has chosen to spend her time off with Worf. I have no wish to intrude on their 'date.' I find I prefer solitude to being 'a third wheel.'"

He turned to face her.

"Are you aware that Captain Picard used to invite me to private diplomatic dinners purposefully to deflect attention away from himself?" he said. "At the time I believed he had chosen me as a companion because the diplomats in question shared my interests and were eager to engage in topical conversation but, in reality, they were terribly bored. The practice became something of a running joke on the ship before I caught Geordi laughing and requested he explain. The Captain has since apologized for using me in that way, but I have learned my lesson, Tasha. I will not intrude where I am not wanted, and I will not expound upon my personal interests without assurances that my conversation will be met with honest reciprocation."

Tasha raised her eyebrows, her amusement accentuating the lines of her face.

"Sounds like you've grown up a lot since I last saw you," she said, and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "The old you never would have been so discerning about those kinds of social subtleties, let alone gotten indignant about it. I'm proud of you, Data."

Data tilted his head in acknowledgement, but said, "I am afraid I still have a long way to go."

"You'll get there," she said, her expression warm. "In your own way, and in your own time. But, where's Geordi, anyway? Why isn't he spending time with you? I'd like to see him again myself."

"Geordi is still overseeing the installation of the new warp plasma conduit. They have run into a series of minor, though unforeseen, problems and Geordi is reluctant to leave his engines until the 'rough edges' have been 'hammered out.'"

Tasha smiled.

"Listen to you, employing human metaphors right, left, and sideways. I always knew you'd get the hang of casual speech someday. I bet you won't even bat an eye if I suggest that things might go faster in Engineering if they had another hand at the wheel."

An expression that might have been amusement briefly softened his eyes.

"Geordi wishes to handle this on his own," he said. "And Captain Picard said I should take this time to enjoy myself. I too often spend my leave doing work."

"Then why are you standing here?" she said. "Why don't you go somewhere more interesting? Like you said, this starbase has a pretty good zoo."

"Such activities are best shared," Data said. "Most of the leisure pastimes available on this base are designed for couples, families, and groups rather than lone individuals. Besides, I am enjoying this time here with you."

"But, I'm not real."

"My memories of you are real. I carry them with me every day."

Tasha turned her face away, then, on impulse, leaned in to kiss his cheek. When he fixed her with a curious stare, she smiled and squeezed his hand again, then turned her eyes back to the Enterprise. After a moment, Data followed her gaze. She stepped closer, pulling his arm around her shoulder, then her waist, until the pair of them stood entwined in a comfortable half-embrace - a posture he remembered her taking on several occasions when she had sought him out after suffering one of her all-too-frequent nightmares. On those occasions, he would accompany her to her favorite observation lounge. They would stand, staring out at the stars, and talk together until her weariness overtook her. Then, she would pat his arm or kiss his cheek, wish him goodnight, and head back to bed. When he looked back on his friendship with Tasha, it was always those brief, trusting moments he missed most of all.

"You're right," she said, resting her head against his shoulder. "This is much better with two."

"Data?"

The android blinked and turned around, feeling the disorientation that accompanied a broken daydream more keenly than ever before.

"Data?" Counselor Troi said again.

Data blinked a few more times, unable to suppress a sinking sense of loss as the imagined pressure of Tasha's head against his uniform and the warmth of her hand on his took their place in rank and file among the rest of his accumulated records.

"Data," Troi said, a glimmer of concern darkening her eyes. "You looked like you were a million light years away just now. Are you all right?"

"Yes, Counselor," he said, turning his focus to her at last. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Well…" she said, seeming uncharacteristically awkward as she stared into his face, as if trying to read something that was no longer there. "I'm sorry, Data. I didn't mean to intrude on your thoughts… But, Worf and I were wondering if you'd like to join us for a walk. The zoological garden they have here is supposed to be one of the best in the quadrant and, as Captain Picard has said, you are our resident honors student in exobiology."

Data furrowed his brow, as if questioning the motive behind her invitation.

"Are you certain the pair of you would not prefer to share the experience as a couple?" he said.

Troi seemed amused.

"Data, I assure you, this isn't a pity invite. Lt. Commander Masters, who currently runs the park, is going to be meeting us in a few minutes to act as our guide. She's recently put in for a transfer to a deep space assignment and, if it's approved, I was thinking you might want to consider her for a position in the Enterprise exobiology lab."

"Then, this is to be an informal evaluation?"

"Well, no, not really," Troi said. "More a chance for social interaction. I thought you might enjoy the opportunity to talk with someone whose passion for studying alien lifeforms might almost rival your own interest. Besides, going to the zoo is always more fun when you bring your friends along."

She smiled at him.

"So, what do you say, Data? Will you come?"

Data's lips twitched ever so slightly upward, and a lively warmth seemed to brighten his golden eyes.

"When you put it like that, Counselor," he said, "how can I refuse?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References for this daydream include TNG: "11001001," "Phantasms," "Manhunt," "Clues," "Legacy," "The Measure of a Man," and "Tin Man."


	4. The Starman

4\. The Starman

"You're not an Android. You're a Starman!"

Data stared at the little girl he identified as five year old Daria Henderson, daughter of Ensign Lee Henderson, an astrophysicist, and Sam Henderson, a civilian cartographer. He had a great many more details available to him, such as her date and place of birth and those of her parents and grandparents, but they did not seem as immediately relevant.

"Why do you say that?" he asked her.

"Because you're the same color as the stars outside the ship!"

The kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Twemlow, seemed uncomfortable; perhaps even embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry, Commander," she said, her voice taking on a scolding tone as she turned to address the class. "Children, you know personal comments like that are not acceptable. Commander Data was kind enough to come here today to help us celebrate our diversity, and—"

"Please, there is no need to apologize," Data said, rather bewildered by her reaction. "I assure you, I am not offended. In fact, I find Daria's observation intriguing."

The little girl beamed.

Later that day, after disengaging himself from the children, who had latched on to him with hyperactive adoration (something that often happened when he visited the kindergarten, though he couldn't fathom why), Data took a moment to look up the term 'starman' on the computer terminal in his quarters. The top results came back quickly: an alien, an otherworldly being, a song by the 20-21st century Terran rock star David Bowie…

Data tilted his head and accessed that last file.

Information flooded across his screen: lyrics, sheet music, holoimages, audio files. He found himself fascinated by the performer's pale makeup, his elaborate costumes, and ran a comprehensive search for all information related to the English singer/songwriter David [Robert Jones] Bowie.

Within moments, Data's imagination was afire. In his mind's eye, he saw a raised stage with flashing lights, a crowd of manically cheering people, their voices so loud it was almost impossible to hear the steady beat and electric shrills of the instruments. Data raised his guitar - the lights above him catching the blue glitter that lined the star painted around his eye, reflecting off the shiny gold material of his high collared shirt - and the crowd's screams grew increasingly wild. He leaned forward, toward the raised microphone, and opened his mouth to sing—

Data sat back in his chair, the noise and lights fading back to the muted colors of his quarters and the distant hum of the ship's engines. The daydream had been a promising one, but why sit still behind the computer console when he could live the experience on the holodeck? If it went well, he could even incorporate elements of the performance into the comprehensive dance tutorial he was developing.

With swift fingers, Data booked a holodeck, defined the parameters of the necessary program, then stood and strode out of his quarters.

As for the handful of crewmembers who witnessed his journey through the Enterprise corridors, when they spoke of their Starfleet service in later years, they would always recall the time they saw the android officer, Mr. Data, lost in his thoughts, swinging his hips in a peculiar dance step as he sang to himself:

"There's a Starman waiting in the sky. He'd like to come and meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds… La la lala, la la lala…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References include TNG: "Silicon Avatar" (Data plays guitar) and "The Game" (Data tells Wesley about his dance program).
> 
> "Starman" from the album 'The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars' by David Bowie, RCA, 1972. Because it's awesome. :)


	5. Imagined Ambitions

5\. Imagined Ambitions

"Geordi?"

"Hm? Yeah, Data?" the chief engineer said distractedly, barely glancing up from his control console.

"Geordi, what do you imagine you will be doing in ten years' time?"

Geordi kept working for a moment as if he hadn't caught the question – which was possible. The pulsing thrum of the warp engines was quite intense in Main Engineering, forcing most people to raise their voices to be heard. Data was just opening his mouth to repeat the question, when Geordi paused, wrinkled his nose, and turned to face his friend.

"If I'm lucky, I'll be doing exactly what I'm doing now. Why do you ask?"

Data regarded him with his frank, golden stare.

"You would not wish to command your own vessel?"

"Hell, no," Geordi said with a sharp laugh. "I tried the command track thing, Data. All those lives riding on your split-second judgment… Always cool, always logical, always straining to keep five steps ahead of your opponent…" He shook his head. "It's not for me. I'm better off in Engineering, keeping things running, smooth and efficient. We're the heart of the ship down here, Data. Heart and soul. I'll leave it to you guys on the bridge to be the brains, with my blessing."

"Then your ambition would be to remain here, on the Enterprise, as Chief Engineer."

"Well, yeah. I'm happy here. Why mess with a good thing?"

"I see…"

Data looked away. Geordi frowned.

"What's going on, Data? If I didn't know any better I'd say you looked disappointed."

Data straightened.

"No. I am pleased that you are satisfied with your present career."

"Then, why the questions?"

Data flicked his eyes to the side, considering how best to phrase his response.

"Since discovering my dream program, I have found myself imagining various future scenarios with increasing frequency," the android said. "The results have run contrary to my initial expectations."

"What do you mean?" Geordi asked, crossing his arms and turning his back to the controls to lean against the console. Data understood the gesture to indicate he had the engineer's full attention: a gratifying expression of friendship and concern.

"When I first began my career in Starfleet," the android explained, "I honestly thought myself incapable of ambition, in the human sense. I had no desire to command or hold authority over other beings. My stated purpose was to collect and analyze information, and I believed at the time – as did the majority of my early career advisors – that the highest post I would be capable of attaining would be that of Science Officer. I have since achieved that…and much more. I had, therefore, assumed when I began…daydreaming..." he glanced at Geordi, as if seeking his approval to use the term, "…about what my future might hold, that I would find myself content to retain my current status and position indefinitely – much as you are currently content to retain the position of Chief Engineer. Yet, the daydream scenarios I have found most satisfactory are those in which I am offered, and subsequently accept, command of a starship."

Geordi struggled to hide a smile, but couldn't keep his lips from quirking. Data tilted his head.

"Have I said something amusing?"

"Not at all, Data," he assured the android. "But I have the feeling this is something that's been building up in you for a long time."

Data wrinkled his forehead.

"I do not understand."

"Don't give me that," Geordi said. "You've had a taste of real command during your time here, and you like it. More than that – you're good at it."

"Then, you are of the opinion that I would be an effective Captain?"

"Why would you doubt it?" Geordi returned.

Data seemed to shrug, ever so slightly.

"I am an android. I lack true emotional empathy. In addition, while my social acumen has improved in my time aboard the Enterprise, I can hardly claim the level of insight and understanding that informs Captain Picard's command style, or Commander Riker's."

"So, you'll have a different style. Big deal."

"But, that is just it," Data said, rather flatly. "No matter what I do or how far I progress, my 'style' will always be 'different.' A unique, idiosyncratic manner inherent only to myself, to which others must adapt. It is as Captain Picard has said…I am a culture of one."

"So what?" Geordi said. "So, you'll be a captain who makes judgments based on intellectual rather than emotional insight. Who knows – maybe your way will be better. After all, there've been plenty of very successful Vulcan captains."

"I am not Vulcan," Data said, his voice just shy of sharp.

Geordi regarded him curiously. Data gradually lowered his eyes.

"Vulcans strive all their lives to suppress and redirect their strong emotional impulses," the android explained. "I have spent my life striving merely to comprehend…let alone achieve…emotional awareness. Our aims are at odds with each other. We are, in essence, opposites."

"OK, bad analogy," Geordi acknowledged. "You're not Vulcan. You're an android. And there's no reason you wouldn't make a stellar Captain. I mean, come on, Data. Didn't you already prove that when you took command of the Sutherland? Not only did you smoke out those skulking Romulans, you faced up to the biases and prejudices of your crew and, by the end, there was no question you had earned their respect. And, isn't that what this is really all about?"

Data tilted his head.

"Explain."

Geordi sighed.

"You proved yourself then – to your crew and to Starfleet – right?" he said. "And now, your newfound imagination has uncovered this glimmer of ambition growing in your cool positronic brain. But, being the overanalytical worrywart you are, you've started tearing yourself apart wondering whether your desires will start up some sort of conflict if you ever dare to step up and finally crush those constricted boundaries those ignorant Starfleet advisors set for you long, long ago. Well, stop worrying. As Second Officer, you've been standing just two steps away from the Big Chair for the past seven years. When it comes time for you to sit down in that chair, no one's going to question your right to claim it, and you can trust me on that. So, quit fretting, OK?"

Data's solemn expression seemed to lighten.

"What is the appropriate adage?" he said. "'Old habits die hard?'"

"More like 'Old wounds never heal,'" Geordi said, and shook his head. "Data, people grow through experience. They develop new skills, new talents and, in the process, their desires and ambitions change. After all this time playing a supporting role, it's only human that you'd start picturing yourself in the Captain's Chair. No one would ever blame you for that, or hold your ambitions against you just because you're an android. And if they do, if some Maddox or Haftel rears up to challenge your right to that chair, you've got me and the Captain and the rest of the crew on your side. Though, after all you've done for Starfleet, I should think those stuffy Admirals would be falling over themselves to offer you a ship…when you're ready, of course."

Data blinked at his friend and his pale lips stretched in a slight smile.

"Geordi," he said, "if I ever were to be offered my own command, would you consider accepting the position of First Officer?"

"Make me your Chief Engineer and we've got a deal."

"Agreed. Geordi?"

"Yeah, Data?"

The android regarded him, as if memorizing every feature.

"I would not wish to imagine my future career without you. You are my first and closest friend."

Geordi smiled, and reached out to clasp Data's shoulder.

"You know what," he said, "I can have Lt. Farrell finish up here. Come on, Data. Let's go grab a drink."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References include TNG: Redemption II, Birthright I, Gambit I/II, Unification II, The Measure of a Man, The Offspring, and The Arsenal of Freedom.


End file.
